Strange Connections
by Will-Dannyn
Summary: Draco finds himself stuck with an autistic girl, Cameron. She'd cared for him when he was sick and injured, and if he wants to stay alive, he has to reciprocate. He doesn't want to...
1. Chapter 1

It was raining, which was good, 'cause I like it when it rains. It reminds me of a big shower, only outside, and you're not supposed to bathe in it. I learned that lesson the hard way.

Dinner had come and gone, like it always does. I can't even remember what it was tonight. There was no flavor left in my mouth, just a bitter taste that would remind me to brush my teeth later. I wish I could go outside.

I can in the daytime, though; but I'm not allowed to go out in the dark. It gets dark at night. I learned that one the hard way, too.

So, instead of being outside like I wanted, I was inside, staring at the fire that's always here after dinner. I like the smell of burning wood, and it makes me warm, too. The library was full of shadows as the light from the fire danced its way across the walls.

There was a book in my lap, but I really didn't feel like reading. Sometimes I just like to sit, and try not to think about anything in particular.

Because thinking makes me feel lonely.

I jerked my head up when I heard a thud. It came from the front door, but it hadn't been a knock. It sounded like somebody leaving a package, only I don't think mail gets delivered at night. Does it?

I waited for half an hour, watching the clock tick away the slow minutes. There weren't any more thuds. No more noises. Creeping to the front door, I peered through the peephole, but I couldn't see anybody standing there. I couldn't see a package, either, but packages were usually pretty short, so it made sense to me.

Finally, I opened the door. The smell of fresh rain distracted me momentarily, and I hummed happily. I looked down at the door mat. A boy was covering it, blood seeping through his white shirt. He wasn't a package. I checked to see if he had a mailing address, just to make sure, but he didn't. He wasn't awake either.

I dragged him into the house by his arms, and left him in the hall. Where was I going to put him? Wait, there was a couch in the library. I thought I could manage to drag him to it. I got him _over_ to the couch just fine, but it took me four tries to get him _up _on the couch. He still didn't wake up. Why did he have to be unconscious? That's not very nice, not when he could tell me what to do.

I stared at him as he lay on the couch. At least he was breathing. His skin was pale, where it wasn't bruised, or bleeding, and he had silvery blond hair that was long enough to fall into his eyes. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't remember who. Oh, well.

I tried to remember what people used to do when I got hurt. I got a bowl of water and some towels from the bathroom. Carefully, so I wouldn't hurt him any more than he was, I took off his shirt and pants. He was really pale, even his toes.

He had a lot of bruises, too. Maybe he bruises easily, like I do. The dark blue-purples of the injuries stood out in stark contrast to his white skin. I didn't know what to do for the bruises, but he had some scratches, and I knew I could help with those. I soaked one of the towels in the water, and dabbed over the cuts. They criss-crossed his chest, like he fell against sharp wires or something, and he had one on his cheek.

I ran the towel gently over the bruises when I was done with the cuts, just in case that would do something, and then sat back on my heels. I brushed the hair out of his eyes. It was bothering me. His chest rose gently up and down with his breathing, and I smiled because he was so…beautiful.

I started humming again, and put a pillow under his head and a fleece blanket over him. I hope it was going to keep him warm.

And then I started to worry, just as I sat down in a nearby armchair. Should I wake him up? Make him something to eat? What if he was hungry? But what if he needed sleep more than he needed to eat? How was I supposed to know what to do? I can't even tie my own damn shoes!

I growled to myself, watching him with growing concern. What if I did something wrong? What if he's broken? I don't know how to fix broken people! Maybe, if he _was _hungry, it would be enough to wake him up all by himself. So, because he's sleeping, he needs sleep more, right? That makes sense, doesn't it? I threw myself back in the armchair with a sigh, and curled up.

I wonder what his name is.

The library didn't have any windows, so there was nothing to prompt me to wake except for the fact that I wasn't tired anymore. I groggily pried my eyes open. The fire was dead long ago, the ashes weren't even smoldering the tiniest bit.

The boy was still on the couch, and I hurried over to check if he was still alive. He was. I frowned in confusion. Why wasn't he awake yet?

I poked his shoulder irritably, and he moaned slightly, turning towards me, one hand lifting as though to defend himself. It dropped a moment later, though, and he moaned again. It was more of a whimper. Maybe he was having a nightmare. I don't like when I have those.

I brushed my fingertips across his smooth forehead lightly, surprised at the warmth coming from him. Was the blanket too much? Did it make him too hot? I put my whole hand on his forehead then, and yanked it back quickly. Ouch.

I dipped my fingers into the bowl of water from last night. Besides being slightly bloody, it was room temperature. Maybe if I put some cold water on him, it'll cool him down…

Determined to make sure he didn't burn a hole through the couch, I got a bigger bowl with cold water. For the next hour, I knelt by the couch, and wiped down his legs, arms, face, chest, and neck. I think that's what you're supposed to do. I remember somebody telling me this a long time ago, but I think I must've been a toddler, because I don't recall very many details.

Then I covered him with three more fleece blankets, and watched him as he slept. The bruises looked the same, but his cuts weren't as bad as they were last night. At least, they didn't look it to me.

I crawled over to my chair and grabbed the book I didn't want to read last night. Settling with my back against the couch, I started from the beginning, even though I was halfway through it already. I thought he'd like to know how things started. Otherwise the rest of the story wouldn't make any sense. My voice was soft, mostly because I was right next to his ear, and partly because I've never been good at reading aloud. I stumbled a bit at the beginning, but when he didn't make fun of me, or tell me to shut up, I kept on going. It was fun. I made up different voices for each of the characters.

I heard the dinner bell, and looked up in alarm. I turned to check on the boy, and found that he wasn't quite as hot. More like warm, now. I smiled in relief, and went to go get my dinner. I'd eaten in the library before, it was allowed. As long as I was careful. I ate as quickly as I could.

He didn't wake up again, so I figured he wouldn't be hungry. I got some new cold water, and repeated the wiping down process that I'd done this morning. I sat again in my spot near his head, and finished the chapter we'd been on.

I was tired, and I thought it'd be okay if I stopped there, and went to get some sleep. I tried to stand, but my legs were too tired. I shrugged, and curled up next to the couch. The carpet was shaggy and almost as comfortable as my bed upstairs. I didn't mind. It wasn't the first time I'd slept on a floor, and this one was of the pleasanter ones.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a strange muffled sound on the edge of my hearing, but I couldn't tell what it was. I rolled away from it, too tired to care why it was getting louder. I kept ignoring it, and finally it went away. But then the water came. I sat up with a gasp, water trickling down my blond hair, and onto my shirt. Cold! I shivered, and put my arms around myself, looking to see where it had come from.

"Good, you're awake." The boy I'd been caring for the past week had finally woken up. He watched me with grey eyes that reminded me of storm clouds. Ooh, they were pretty. "Where are my clothes?" he demanded, yelling of a sudden. I jumped and pointed to a spot behind him. I'd hung them on a bookshelf earlier in the week, figuring it would just be easier to wrap the blankets around him then to try and dress him. Taking the clothes _off _had been difficult enough.

"Go and get them." The boy ordered, lifting his slightly pointed chin higher in the air, and watching me. He frowned when I didn't get up. "Get my clothes!"

Wordlessly, I did as he ordered. I think I may like him better when he's sleeping. He looked so peaceful, so calm, but now…best not to think about it. I stared at him as he rummaged through his clothes, a blanket wrapped securely around his waist. Not that I would care, anyway. I'd been seeing him almost-naked for seven days now. Of course, he might not know that.

"Where is it?!" he hissed, his eyes turning darker as he advanced on me. I stumbled backwards, my feet not doing good with going the opposite way. I hit my head on the corner of the little table that sat next to my armchair when I fell. "I said, where is it?"

I ignored him for the moment, checking my head. Yep, it was bleeding. Damn. I _hate _my own blood, it makes me feel sick. I tried to stand, but swayed a little. No matter, the boy was there, grabbing my shirt collar and slamming me into the wall. That helped a little, actually. Cleared my head a bit.

"Where is my wand, you little idiot?" he shook his clothes at me as I processed what he said.

"Wand?" I spoke quietly, wincing at the sound of my childish voice next to his aristocratic one.

"Yes, wand! What did you do with it? Do you know who I am?"

And then it hit me. He was… One. Of. Them. The slight nausea my blood had caused now roared to life again, roiling around in my stomach like an angry ocean. No, no. It couldn't be.

"Your wand is right here, Mr. Malfoy." A silky, familiar voice had me frozen against the wall, the boy still clutching my shirt. He let go a moment later and approached One of Them almost casually.

"Give it to me," I winced at the imperious tone. Did he not know who he was dealing with?

"Certainly, Draco." The man clothed in white handed over a small stick with ease, a smile playing on his false face. He'd told me once that it wasn't his, just a mask. Didn't make him any less creepy. I watched the wand change hands with apprehension. Such a small thing to cause such hurt. "But you must know, Draco, that you'll only be able to perform rudimentary spells."

The man watched Draco's reaction carefully. Draco, I like that. It's almost as pretty as his hair. Almost.

The white haired boy held his wand tightly in a fist, not lowering it, but not pointing it, either. "What do you mean, rudimentary?"

The man shrugged. He told me to call him Mr. Dasan, but I never addressed any of Them by name. Although they spoke mine with ease and familiarity. Like a family member at a picnic. "Spells that will help with things around the house," he gestured around the library with a sweep of his white-clothed arm. "and help you take care of Cameron." Here he pointed at me with a long index finger decorated with a green stone.

Draco chuckled suddenly, and took a step back. "Take care. Of her!" he repeated, now leaning casually against the couch arm. "And why would I do that?" he drawled, twirling his wand, like he was bored. Meanwhile, I was still plastered to the wall, sweat and blood running down my face as I tried not to vomit.

Dasan shrugged. "She took care of you, Draco. For a week. Without any help. If you wish to stay alive, you will do the same." He held up a hand as Draco began to protest. "She's been here for at least a decade with no one; I think you'll make a nice companion. There is a map of the town in a drawer in the front hall. On it are directions to the general store should you acquire food that we currently don't offer, or supplies of any kind. There is a good-sized backyard, perfect for practicing your flying. Your broom is in the closet in your room, as are some of your clothes. We'll start at a month, see how well you do."

Dasan bowed then, a movement I knew to mean he was about to leave. I started to breathe again. "Draco, should you attempt to hurt Cameron in any way, know that We are watching with careful eyes. We will not tolerate violence of any kind towards her." With that, he swept from the room, going back to wherever he always comes from.

Oh, good. I took in a lungful of sweet air before passing out.

There was the familiar sound of the dinner bell ringing, and I gingerly stood up from where Draco had left me on the floor. Dried blood crusted the side of my face as I made my way from the library to the dining room. I looked around, but I didn't see Draco anywhere. Maybe he went to take a nap, or something.

Shrugging, I sat down in my chair at the large table, eleven other chairs empty, as usual. Food began to appear after a moment, and I dug in heartily. Having a concussion really gets the appetite going.

I was so excited! I was going to have a friend. Draco was going to be _my _friend. And he was going to stay with me, here, at my house. Humming as I sipped on my orange juice, I began to smile. Maybe he would read to me, this time. And when I got scared, I'd have someone to talk to. That was good, 'cause I had a lot of nightmares. Dasan being one of them.

Loud footsteps preceded Draco into the dining room. I looked up, smiling, when I saw him. He was muttering to himself, his pretty hair shiny from the rain outside and sticking in every direction. His bloody clothes were dirty and he angrily threw a broom on the ground.

My smile faded when I remembered that Draco was one of them. Uh oh.

"How the hell do you get out of this place?" he shouted, slamming his hands down on the table so that my glass jumped. He pressed his face close to mine and growled.

Confused, I pointed to the hall. "The front door." I answered. He didn't like that.

"I've tried! I've tried to leave, but I only got as far as the front gate! And then I tried the backyard, but those damn hedges are too tall, so I tried to fly over them," he gestured impatiently at the shiny broom. He shot me an accusing glance. "How do _you_ get out of here?"

I didn't want to make him any angrier, but he didn't seem as scary as Dasan. He hadn't hurt, and wait! Didn't Dasan say he _couldn't _hurt me? So, maybe he _will_ be a good friend!

I shrugged as he waited for an answer. "I don't."

"You _don't_?" he repeated, incredulous. He crossed his arms with a glower. "You don't ever leave?" he spoke slowly, as though I were stupider than I am. I hate it when people did that.

I shook my head, and then pointed to the food still on the table. "Are you hungry?" He had to be, he hadn't eaten in a week.

He eyed the food with disdain, sniffing, and turned on his heel, not giving me an answer. I wondered if all boys were this moody. One minute he's unconscious, then he's mad, and then he's furious, and now he's not even hungry. Weird.


	3. Chapter 3

Intrigued, I followed Draco. He went down the front hall, and then up the stairs. There were four doors in the long hallway upstairs. The first on the left was a study of some sort; it had a desk and empty shelves. I never go in there. Across the hall from that is my room. The last on the right was the bathroom, and across from that is Draco's room, I guess.

I peeked around the top of the stairs as he headed into his room. A few minutes later, he went into the bathroom, a bundle of clothes in his hand. Oh, so he was taking a shower.

When I heard the water start running, I crept my way down the carpeted hall to his room. Waiting another minute with bated breath, I stood crouched over the doorknob, but no other sound from the water was heard. I turned the knob, and it opened easily without any creaks. I wanted to see what Draco's room looked like.

For years this room had been empty, the carpeted floor looking lonely. Sometimes I slept in here so this room wouldn't feel abandoned. The carpet had been a deep maroon, but now it was a dark green. There were two windows framing the corner of the house, and that's where his bed sat. It was a large four-canopy like mine, only his was green and silver for some reason. Mine was cobalt and silver, but that's because those are my favorite colors. Maybe green and silver are his favorite colors.

A large writing desk was hunched in the opposite corner as the bed. The rest of the walls were covered in bookshelves, full and almost tottering over. It reminded me of the library. At the foot of his bed was a large trunk, and I cautiously approached it. It was so shiny! It was black, ornate carvings all over it. I traced the designs with my fingers, running my hands over the smooth wood. Whatever was in here must be very valuable, I thought, to be put in such a beautiful box.

"What are you doing?" a cold voice asked, and I jumped.

I whirled around to face Draco, now dressed in all black, including his leather shoes. I smiled at him, opening my arms to encompass the room. "It's so pretty," I sang, twirling a little. "I love your box," I ran back over to it, but didn't touch it this time. "What's in it?" I looked at it longingly.

"Get out of my room!" he sneered, striding towards me. He grabbed my upper arm and hauled me out of the room before slamming it in my face.

I was playing happily in the garden the next day, weeding my way across the large beds. I squeezed my hands in the damp dirt, loving the squishing sound and the feel of the cold earth on my hands. It had rained earlier, and I had had so much fun jumping around in the muddy grass. I was probably brown from head to foot, but I didn't care. I was humming to myself when I heard a crash coming from the house.

I hadn't seen Draco since he'd dragged me from his room yesterday, but he was still trying to get out. Silly goose, I smiled to myself, I'd already tried everything ten years ago. You can't get out unless they let you. And they only let me out when I don't want to leave, I just want to go. Like if I want to go play in the park, but not try to run away, they'll let me. But if I pretend to want to play in the park, and then try to run away, they won't let me go any further.

I had planned on telling him that, but he wouldn't speak to me when I knocked tentatively on his door after he threw me out. So, I figured I'd just leave him alone for now. Maybe he'd want to play later. I know a lot of fun games.

"Hello? Anyone home?" a friendly voice called from behind the hedges. It was one of the neighbors! I shot to my feet and ran into the house. Sure enough, there was knocking on the front door. "Cameron, are you in there, sweetie?"

I slid on the stairs, my feet slippery from the mud, and barged my way into Draco's room. He'd found he couldn't lock it earlier, and I learned a lot of new expletives. More to add to my list.

"Help!" I wheezed as I ran to him. He was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands, but when I came in, he snapped his head up and glared.

"I told you to get out!" he held his wand at me, but I wasn't afraid of it anymore. He couldn't hurt me; Dasan said so.

"Cameron, I know you're in there. I thought I saw someone leave something on your porch a while back, and just wanted to make sure you're alright." It was Betsy, the ever-concerned neighbor next door, who always had one eye on her neighbors, and the other on her husband's wallet. She always made sure I got my packages, and gave me presents on the holidays. It annoyed me to no end.

"Please, help." I said, reaching out towards him with muddy hands. "They won't like it if she calls the police again."

The first time I didn't answer the door, about a week after I moved in, she had called them. Dasan and the Others had had a fun time explaining everything, and I'd had a hard time recovering from what they did to me afterwards. I'd always answered the door after that.

Draco shrugged, not caring. "So, go answer the door."

I dropped my eyes, wishing he would be like he was when he was sleeping. He probably is, just not used to showing it when he was awake, that's all. I'll give him time. Slowly, I made my way down the mud-tracked stairs and answered the door.

"Oh, hello, sweetie. I knew you'd be here," Betsy gushed, going to pull me into a hug, but seeing my muddy state, hesitated. "Been playing in the rain again?" she winked as though we had a secret, and peered around my shoulders to see inside the house. She'd never been inside, and that wasn't going to change today. "Well, I saw something a couple of days ago being dropped off on your porch. It looked awfully big – do you need Rupert's help putting it together?" Rupert was her rich, helpful husband who always watched her younger sister play tennis. I didn't like him, either.

"No," I answered casually, leaning against the doorframe as she tried to push her way in. As always. "I'm fine. It came already constructed, thanks."

"Oh, right. Well, that's good." She beamed at me, and paused again. Most likely trying to figure how to prolong the conversation. "Did you know there's a carnival in a week? Would you like to go with Rupert and I? You know how he loves the roller coasters."

I shook my dirty hair, splattering her multi-colored house dress with spots of mud. "No, thank you." I replied politely, as I did every year the carnival came to town, and Betsy asked me if I wanted to go with. Talk about stubborn. I heard footsteps on the stairs, and froze. A second later, I tried to slam the door in her face, but she put her foot out quicker than I thought possible.

"Well, who is this?!" she all but squealed as Draco came into view.

He strode forward and pushed me aside as he held out a hand. I could see him smirking as he introduced himself. "Draco Malfoy, ma'am. Nice to meet you." he drawled, taking my spot at the doorframe.

Betsy turned to me, her eyes wide and shiny for some reason. "I didn't know you had a brother." She exclaimed, clapping her hands together happily.

Draco and I both froze. If I hadn't been muddy, I would have had the same pale hair and skin as Draco. His eyes were grey, whereas mine were a dark blue, but, yes, I could see the scary resemblance.

"You're one of the neighbors?" Draco recovered quicker than I did, and smiled at her pleasantly. "Cameron never told me about you." he nudged me with one shoulder, in an 'I'm your brother, you should've told me this' kind of way, like you see on television.

I could see the accusation in Betsy's eyes as she thought the same thing.

"Yes, I'm here for a short stay," he continued in the same sweet tone, and I could see that she was melting.

"Well, it's nice that Cameron gets some company," she commented and then her shrewd eyes narrowed. "Why have you never visited before? It's not good for someone, uh, like her, to be alone for too long!" she pointed a finger at him sternly.

"Our mother," here he slung an arm around me and pulled me closer. I could smell his shampoo. It smelled nice. "Has fallen ill, and I've been caring for her. I asked Cameron if she wanted to come and visit, but you know how she is about leaving the house." He shook his head in mock exasperation.

"Yes, yes," Betsy nodded sagely, her brown curls bouncing around her head as she looked at him with admiration. He was a very good actor, I'd give him that. "Well, since you're here, maybe you'll take her to the carnival." She suggested, throwing me another wink.

"Wouldn't that be fun?" Draco looked down at me and smiled. I almost gasped. That's the smile he had on his face when he was sleeping! _This _is the Draco I've been waiting to meet! Does that mean the Draco I want to know is the fake Draco? This is all very confusing.

When she was through the front gate, I sighed in relief. Draco dropped his arm immediately. That hadn't gone too badly. Much less worse than what my imagination had conjured. Draco left his perch on the frame and went inside again.

"That was fun," he smirked at me, most likely loving the fear it had given me. "Maybe I should meet all your neighbors." He continued as he almost skipped to the library.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know this chapter is shorter than the others, and it's strangely a small turning point for Draco and how he sees Cameron, lol. Ok, before I tell you more than I should, read:**

Another day had passed, and Draco still wasn't coming around. I was no less determined, though. I knew he'd be _my _Draco, the one he was when sleeping, if I just gave him enough time. He'd actually had dinner with me last night, but he didn't say a word. I couldn't tell if he was trying to get out anymore, or if he was just trying to think of new ways to get out.

It didn't matter what he thought of, nothing would work. I saw him look down at his wand every so often, as if wondering why it wouldn't get him out of this predicament, but it didn't give him any response.

I carefully balanced the basket I had hanging on my arm to hang on the branch. Bracing myself against the trunk, I reached my hand out to grasp a bunch of cherries. I love this season! It gives me a valid reason to climb trees this high. I hummed happily to myself as I filled the basket with black cherries. I couldn't wait to eat these later; they always taste better when I've picked them myself.

I heard whistling and looked down to see Draco strolling onto the patio, hands in his pockets.

"Hope you don't fall," he called with a sneer, and then flicked his hand from his pocket. It was holding his wand, and he gleefully flicked his wrist again.

My foot slipped, crashed into my other foot, and down I fell, hitting one branch with my right shoulder, and landing on my left side on the stone of the patio. It hurt. I gasped, trying to catch my breath through the pain. I think my shoulder was dislocated, I couldn't move it. I didn't _want _to move it, it hurt when I breathed. But I couldn't stop doing that, so…

"Whoops." I heard Draco's happy chirp above me and glared as best I could with tears in my eyes.

And then came the whoosing sound.

"What did we tell you?" Dasan demanded, and the smile slipped right of Draco's smug face. The air crackled around the wizard clothed in black, and he growled at the boy, even though his voice was a soft hiss. He whipped his head around to look me over with a critical eye. Disgusted, he shook his head. "You deliberately hurt her. Why?"

Draco squirmed, his wand held loosely in his hand as though he knew it would be of no use to him in this situation. He was right, it wouldn't.

Dasan shrugged when no answer was forthcoming, and raised his hand, palm pointed straight at Draco, who was trembling.

I closed my eyes, and put a shield around him. He was shaking, his hair falling into his eyes, his smirk completely gone, and I couldn't let anyone hurt him. He was too pretty. He was too much _my _Draco in this moment. I know why he'd hurt me, and I was sure Dasan knew it, too, but didn't care. He never cared.

I woke on the couch in the library. Draco was in my chair, head bowed as though praying. I wondered what he was praying for, because I knew it couldn't be me. The blanket draped on me fell as I tried to sit up, every muscle in my body screaming for me to stay still. Draco's head snapped up, and I saw that his eyes were red. Maybe he was allergic to something.

"You're awake." He made to stand, but then changed his mind, and sat back down.

I nodded, relieved that he was speaking to me, instead of yelling like he usually did. "What happened?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew. Might as well make sure.

"He…he did _Crucio_ on you, or something." Draco shook his head, not in a negative way, but in the way that people do when they have a thought they want to get rid of. "You were, writhing around on the ground, your mouth open like you wanted to scream…" he shuddered, and wrapped his arms around himself for a second before realizing what he was doing. His grey eyes locked on mine. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't like to let them hear me scream." God, I was thirsty. I didn't think my body would let me stand, though.

"No," Draco said, his voice strangely soft and…understanding? No, that can't be it. "I mean, why didn't you let them kill me?" he choked on the word _kill _and there was a beautiful desperation in his storm cloud eyes that mesmerized me. More so than his hair, even.

I shrugged again. "Because…I couldn't let them. They've done much worse to me, and they're still alive. Why should they get to kill you just because you annoy them?" _Because if I'd have let you die, I'd be alone again._

He nodded, but I could tell he didn't understand still. Oh, well. That was the easiest way for me explain it, so I wasn't going to try any further. Maybe he'll understand if I give him time.

"Draco?" I asked, tentatively, sure that the niceness he was showing now would wear off the moment I asked for something. I might as well try. Maybe he'll stay _my _Draco. "Could I get some water?" I bit my lip, waiting for him to huff and leave the room, or tell me to get my own.

He jumped off the chair. "Of course," he said quickly, starting for the door, and then pausing halfway. "Do you want anything else?"

I stared at him for a minute before mutely shaking my head. Okay, this was new. I hummed as I leaned back against the couch arm, turning to look at the fire. See, I knew he could be himself when he was awake. Maybe I could get him to play games with me now that he was himself.

As soon as the pain dies down, I decided, as my muscles shrieked in agony. Yeah, I should probably wait a little bit. Maybe he'll read to me. I smiled as I imagined his soft voice filling the room. I wish that he was going to stay this way, but I wasn't gonna get my hopes up.


End file.
